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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357565">Color one, or two?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/pseuds/Chyrstis'>Chyrstis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We could make a home out of this [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Far Cry 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Eden's Gate Cult, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:40:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/pseuds/Chyrstis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John’s got a question to ask. Sharky may or may not have an answer, because seriously, red is fucking red, and he’s not quite sure what the problem is.</p>
<p>--<br/>[Set between I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I'd like you)’s Ch. 5 and 6]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sharky Boshaw/John Seed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We could make a home out of this [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Color one, or two?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This idea hit me out of the blue weeks back during, of all things, an appointment with the dentist. Just the idea of John texting Sharky out of the blue himself only to have him judge a few of his color picks, and it wound up being a perfect little mini bridge between Ch. 5 and 6. </p>
<p>Here's hoping it won't take me another three months to add another to this series! I've still got quite a bit planned for it, and it feels good to be able to post for it again.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day started off with an idea.</p>
<p>“You know what would be pretty cool,” Hurk said between bites of breakfast. “A rocket chute.”</p>
<p>And Sharky nodded. Shooting - heh, chuting - rockets seemed pretty dope.</p>
<p>Then he thought it over a little more. Let that lightbulb pop right on, and nearly dropped his burrito in the process, because sure, they could shoot off rockets.</p>
<p>But driving through a hail of rockets to nail a jump that would have them soaring sky high over a sea of sparks?</p>
<p>That, they made movies about. That, got some of the sickest stories around told about you only to have them still fall short of the real thing, and all of that lit a fire in him that had him sprinting towards the nearest pile of scrap he’d set aside in his yard. </p>
<p>‘Cause to get this right, he needed to bash together some greatness, and by the time they made their way out past Sr’s house, he and Hurk had a pretty decent idea down too.</p>
<p>Or at least he thought they did. Right up until Hurk’s voice cut through the song he’d been whistling along to, and he nearly jumped in place.</p>
<p>“Whoa, wait a sec, hold up!” Hurk yelled, hands flying up. “Time out!”</p>
<p>Sharky blinked at him, shovel in hand and dirt ready to keep on flying. “What? Yo, what’s wrong? We hit or dig up something we shouldn’t have?”</p>
<p>Far as Sharky knew, there weren’t any power lines all the way out here, or the popo tearing ass up here about to cuff them, but maybe Hurk’s ears were working double-time compared to his, and he stopped and craned his head around to check.</p>
<p>“…You know how we wanted sparks to shoot outta this thing, right?” Sharky turned towards Hurk, and watched a grimace set in. “Just set that off at certain points so it’d light up and be all like the 4th of July once we blast on through?”</p>
<p>“Hell yeah!”</p>
<p>“So, the start’s over there.”</p>
<p>He followed the path of Hurk’s hand. Went straight from point A to B, and nodded. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“And the jump’s about ten feet further up.”</p>
<p>Turning back towards him, he scratched his head. Something still wasn’t adding up like it should’ve. “Uh, still not seeing the problem, cuz.”</p>
<p>“…Think we started about ten to fifteen feet further back than we should’ve.”</p>
<p>“Wait, what? You’re the one that said X marked the motherfucking spot back there!”</p>
<p>“Well, I said we needed a whole lotta trench to lay some pipe, ‘cause it was gonna make you laugh, and it did-”</p>
<p>Sharky had snickered for a good minute, but Hurk didn’t need to know that right now. Not immediately, anyway. “Yeah, so?”</p>
<p>“I, uh, think we ran outta pipe.”</p>
<p>“But we still got all of this trench.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, so I think we cap it off here for now, give it a test to see how it all holds, come back later with more pipe, and then pop another rocket off and see if it flies straight as we want it to. It’ll still be rad as hell, just shorter.”</p>
<p>Shorter he could work with. Could still pull off a pretty sweet jump if he timed it right, and flashed Hurk a thumbs up. “Nah, it’s cool. We’ll clear the last of this shit out, and can even come back with bigger and better stuff to run on through this.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, see! That’s what I’m talking about!” Hurk said, giving him a fist bump. “Before we do any of that though, I’m gonna need you sit tight for five and gimme a sec to sort more of this out. ’Cause I’m no good when I got a full tank trying to run things, and that’ll let me put my thinking cap on too.”</p>
<p>Slapping him on the shoulder, Hurk jogged off towards the bushes, and the minute he disappeared past them, Sharky took one look at the stretch of land he had left to dig, and sighed.</p>
<p>It wasn’t a total loss, seeing as it’d all get used in the end unless a storm blew in and washed most of it out, but man, when it rained it poured, and he hoped that wouldn’t be the case here.</p>
<p>Going back to digging, he eyed what he had left. Just about six to seven feet max, judging from where he was standing, and went back to humming along to the tune he had going earlier. Timed the shovel with each beat as he scooped the dirt up, and knew he’d be done in no time.</p>
<p>Something buzzed right at his hip, making him start as he swept the dirt up, and nearly tipped it over onto himself. Stabbing the shovel into the pile next to him, he scrubbed his hands off on his jeans, and dug his phone out.</p>
<p>John. That had him raising an eyebrow, and as soon as he read the message, the second one joined it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Color one, or color two?</em>
</p>
<p>“Wha..?”</p>
<p>Sharky stared down at the text, scrunching up his face as he read and re-read the words until the next set of messages popped up.</p>
<p>Two squares one by one, both red.</p>
<p>Okay, this had to be a mistake of some kind. He’d been thinking that after the first text, and now with this sitting in front of him, he was left scratching his head over it long enough for John to send something else.</p>
<p>
  <em>Either or, or neither?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>dude its red</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Clearly, but I’m undecided on the shade of paint I want to use, and thought your opinion might sway me.</em>
</p>
<p>Shit, so John did mean to text him after all, but the last thing he’d slapped a coat of paint on was his flamethrower, and he doubted John was looking for any pointers on something like that.</p>
<p>
  <em>yea cuz im someone thats got an eye for this kinda shit </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Possibly better than you think. And I thought it’d be worth it to ask. </em>
</p>
<p>Snorting, Sharky rolled his eyes, but after a minute took another look at the pictures.</p>
<p>Maybe there was something different here. Something he wasn’t getting due to light, or the giant thumbprint he’d left on the screen, but he wiped it off and tried again. Squinted as he held the phone up to his face, rotated it, shielded the sun from it with his hand, and marinated on it for a good five minutes.</p>
<p>But in the end, red number one was no different than red number two, and he couldn’t do a thing other than shrug at the screen. Then actually typed something out, because John wasn’t exactly here to see him do it, and wouldn’t know shit unless he told him directly.</p>
<p>
  <em>ig the first ones nice?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Really?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>yea tho u sure u arent fkin with me?</em>
</p>
<p>Sharky switched to the earlier photos. Tilted his phone and studied them, and still couldn’t tell jack-shit.</p>
<p>Another image came through in the middle of this, this time of John’s hand holding up what looked to be two separate paint color cards. Both were the kind of red he seriously had no hope of telling apart, and as Sharky focused in on them, he caught two different names.</p>
<p>“…Heart what?” he muttered, reading no joke, Heartthrob as one of the colors.</p>
<p>
  <em>the fuck man?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Not happy with either?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>im over here digging holes covered in dirt n shit and ure asking me to tell u whats better Candy apple or fkin cherry </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>cant even tell if ones lighter n the other </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Digging?</em>
</p>
<p>Taking a picture of where he was, Sharky sent it along, and John didn’t wait long to respond.</p>
<p>
  <em>Ah, you’re busy. This is a bad time. </em>
</p>
<p><em>its ok</em> Sharky replied, typing fast, <em>just weird to ask </em></p>
<p>
  <em>the hells the red for anyway? thought blue was your thng</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The boathouse, remember? It was red.</em>
</p>
<p>It was?</p>
<p>Thinking back to that night, color didn’t even click for him. Shit, he’d barely had his own feet under him as he slipped into the place, and nearly pitched over the edge of the boat into the river. But after avoiding hitting his head, and losing his balance he’d fired it up and booked it.</p>
<p>Didn’t even stop to question anything, not even the keys left on the workbench nearby. Seriously, how did he end up being the first person to try this shit at all?</p>
<p>Raccoons, or hell, even a wolverine could’ve run off with them, and he didn’t know what was funnier, the idea of a wolverine trying to handle a boat, or John trying to work any of that lawyer mojo against something ready to claw his face off.</p>
<p>But thinking back to the boathouse, red kinda made sense. Well, judging from what he’d seen under the burnt and charred pieces he’d broken down and thrown to the side while taking it apart.</p>
<p>His phone chirped, and sure enough, he was looking at one red boathouse.</p>
<p>
  <em>It was a brilliant shade, and I’d like to stick with it. </em>
</p>
<p>Eh, that was fair. <em>still weird for u tho </em></p>
<p>
  <em>Why? Are you saying that red isn’t my color?</em>
</p>
<p>In less than minute another photo came through, but it wasn’t another paint card.</p>
<p>There John was, standing next to a wall of red paint cans with a set of bedroom eyes that had no right working that well in the middle of a hardware store. Just showing off those baby blues of his at the right kind of angle to really bring them out, and he made it look effortless. Like all he’d have to do at any point in time, no matter the place was flip a switch and it’d be on, and there? It was<em> on. </em></p>
<p>“Not cool,” Sharky groused, feeling a grimace set in as he swiped dirt off of his face. “Not cool at all.”</p>
<p>Hell, it’d probably be on here too.</p>
<p>Sharky tugged at his dirty tee he was wearing, noting the large dark smear up it, and knew a lot of that same mud was caked onto his face. Full on fifty shades here, but all of them brown, brown, and browner, and none of it helping him inch much closer to getting any.</p>
<p>It was fucking cruel and unusual, man, and standing there dirty and miserable in a trench he didn’t need to keep on digging really felt a little like twisting the knife right now.</p>
<p>Glancing down at his screen, he noticed there was another picture. John again, fuck me eyes still on, but this time grinning at him like he’d won the lottery.</p>
<p><em>Still sure? </em>he asked, his stupid hot, good-looking face staring up at him.</p>
<p>Sharky let go of his shirt and started typing.</p>
<p>
  <em>sure as brwn aint mine.</em>
</p>
<p>And he snapped a quick pic, making sure to Blue Steel it as hard as possible.</p>
<p>Yeah, he couldn’t work it like John could, but he could roll with this. Could try to be all sexy-cool like any of those guys in the underwear ads that got paid a shit-ton of money to roll around in dirt and manage to stay hot, or those in the jean commercials where they ended up wearing them all of five seconds before whipping ‘em off anyway.</p>
<p>Mud wrestling and posing, hell, all of it really seemed like it was just a messy lead in to a fuck - and he’d seen a few vids go for that angle. Watched them in full, just to really amp up those commercials he’d already given himself an experimental stroke on a slow night to.</p>
<p>And hardware store-type shit? That wasn’t off of the table at all. No, he knew the beats they’d hit stringing everything together before the clothes started coming off, and in a situation like this? In a store just like the one John was standing in right now?</p>
<p>Shit, he knew <em>exactly</em> how it would play out.</p>
<p>With one really hot chick needing help in the back, asking for assistance all breathy and whispery, her chest about to burst out of the two-sizes too small shirt she was wearing. </p>
<p>Good thing she found the guy working nearby.</p>
<p>Wearing shit that was too fancy to have on during any shift, he’d spin around, and drop a line like, ‘eager to offer any customer assistance’ except ten times higher on the suave meter. Apron on, but ready to strip at a second’s notice, he had the first few buttons of his blue shirt already undone, and it’d take zero effort to get through the rest.</p>
<p>She’d ask, tongue coming out to lick her cherry red lips, “Color one, or two?”</p>
<p>That had him eyeing her more than the color cards in her hands as she placed them over her chest, and asked him which to pick again. One or two?</p>
<p>And Mr. Chiseled-As-Fuck would stroke his beard a bit, thinking it over, then reach out to see for himself.</p>
<p>“It’s so hard to choose,” he’d say, voice low as she sighed, leaning into more of his touch. “Because I can see the appeal to both, but I think my heart’s set on number-”</p>
<p>“Hey, I hear some snaps going on over here!”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Fuck!” </em>
</p>
<p>Squeezing his hands together made Sharky’s phone go flying straight into the air. It arced, soaring towards the ground as he watched it go, until it fell right into the mud with a wet slap.</p>
<p>“Oh shit, man!” Hurk said as he walked up beside him, eyes wide. “That got some great air. Probably give it a 7.25, but uh, don’t think any of that’s waterproof, so…”</p>
<p>Sharky was already sprinting after it, and after scrubbing it off on his shirt checked for any cracks in the screen. None, not a single one, and he nearly collapsed in relief. Then nearly choked on his tongue when Hurk’s voice popped up right next to his ear again.</p>
<p>“Is it working?”</p>
<p>It hadn’t lit up once, but after slapping at it a few times and pushing on every button he could reach, the screen flashed white and restarted.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sharky sighed, blowing out a breath. “It’s working, but since when did you get to be so damn stealthy, man?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been training! Honing it ever since I got back, ‘cause you never know when you’re gonna have to tag yourself in on a mission when your monkey ‘migos are out of commission.”</p>
<p>“I guess, and it’d be kinda cool to see ‘em hide and run and steal shit, wearing all of that dynamite, but seriously, you can’t just pop up behind people, going full-on ninja vanish and not expect ‘em to break or drop shit!” he said, flinging his arms out and nearly losing his phone again. “I’ve busted two of these this month.  You wanna make it number three?”</p>
<p>“No, no, no, I’ve got you, cuz. Even if it’s busted, we’ll get you another.”</p>
<p>Hurk sidled up to him again as he kept poking at his phone, and tried any angle to sneak a look at his screen.</p>
<p>“So, you wanna tell me what that was about? Sharing’s caring, cuz, and if you’ve got a little lady in your life, I’ll just start praying she’s got a sister.”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Sharky said, shaking his head, “that was John. He was asking about colors for the boathouse. Thinking ahead, though we’re still putting stuff up, and I know there’s sanding to do, but we’re just about…”</p>
<p>He paused, mentally adding a few more boards to their current stopping point, and found himself a bit of a loss. It was just a handful of boards to put up, and then primer and paint, checks, double-checks, and triple-checks, ‘cause John was John, even though he wasn’t about to pull a fast one now of all times.</p>
<p>But after that it’d all be-</p>
<p>“…Done?” Sharky stood there, blinking as he considered what he’d actually just said. “Think we’d be done.”</p>
<p>Hurk whistled. “What? For real? No more nights? No more dropping anything and everything to head on out if you’re needed?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, think that’s just about what’s left.”</p>
<p>Sharky rubbed the back of his neck as his mouth twisted, more of the reality of that sinking in, and didn’t feel as cool with it as he thought he’d be. Sure, he’d have his nights and weekends back, but he had most of those already, and often headed over to John’s because…well, he wanted to.</p>
<p>There was always something to do, and John didn’t mind having him there, so he stuck around. Talked until neither felt like talking much, hung around until even John had no choice but to turn in, but would he even want him to after this?</p>
<p>Sharky shook it off as he raised his phone.</p>
<p>“But John was talking paint, and let me just…he had me looking at this, and I shit you not, it’s two different colors. But all I see’s red on red, and you’re good at this, right?”</p>
<p>“I’ve got one hell of a set of discerning peepers going on here,” Hurk said, rubbing his hands together, “so you pull that up, and I’ll do what I do best. Peeping. Though, uh not, you know. That kind of peeping, just…the kind of close watching that’s good for pointing shit out.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, just observing cool shit. And people doing cool shit, and so what if they’re pretty and all that, right?”</p>
<p>“Exactly! We’re being respectful and watchful, all from the proper distance to be doing said appreciating. Never mind the fact that six times out of ten they don’t always know the appreciating’s happening, but that’s just-it’s all a misunderstanding’s all.”</p>
<p>“Yeah! It’s all it is.”</p>
<p>Sharky nodded, Hurk nodded along with him, and when the silence stretched long enough for their bobbing heads to actually sync up in motion, Hurk paused and slowly aimed a look his way. </p>
<p>“So…what were we talking about again?”</p>
<p>Shit, he’d been thrown off his groove too.</p>
<p>“Just gimme a sec. It’s uh…” His phone buzzed in his hand, and Sharky jumped to attention. “John! John had me trying to sort and pick between two colors, after sending ‘em, and I was gonna get those photos for you.”</p>
<p>“Cool. Lay it on me, duderino, and let’s see if we can pick one out.”</p>
<p>Pressing the button to unlock the screen, it stayed black. Sharky pressed it again, this time holding it down, and nothing changed.</p>
<p>It hadn’t hit the ground that hard, had it?  He’d shaken it off right after picking it up, so he didn’t think it’d soaked up much water at all either, but it wasn’t responding. Wasn’t doing anything other than going through the same start up loop over and over.</p>
<p>“No, no, no-” he started, holding it tight with both hands as panic set in.</p>
<p>Going for the same button technique he’d nailed before, the screen went white only to stay that way, and no matter how many times he poked at it, nothing happened.</p>
<p>“Well, guess we’re going to George again.” Hurk patted him on the shoulder as his posture slumped. “He’ll still give us a sweet discount, though, long as we bring over some of the sticky icky we passed his way last time.”</p>
<p>“Man, that’s killing any stash I’ve got built up…”</p>
<p>“I know, and I’ll get you some more to make up for it, but just think. We get that new phone, making sure it’s got a camera and a way to film all of this, and we’ll be back to make jumps and do sick stunts in no time. Sound good?”</p>
<p>Hurk held out his fist to him, and Sharky gave his phone one last lingering look before pocketing it. “’Bout as good as it’ll be to cross that finish line first.”</p>
<p>And with that, Sharky gave his fist a quick smack before sprinting off towards Hurk’s truck. The lead he had didn’t have a chance of lasting, but he was fine with that. Being able to be out there hooting and hollering even as Hurk tackled him back into that same-old ditch he’d dug out was enough.</p><hr/>
<p>Tapping his foot as he rested his back against the wall, John stared down at the sentence he’d written, and the clear lack of response that followed it.</p>
<p>Scrolling back up, John looked at the photo Charlemagne had sent. The only one he had of him, actually.</p>
<p>He’d been just as filthy as he’d implied, dirt covering him from head to toe, but unbothered by any of it, set on seeing how far the heavy-lidded look he’d adopted could take him.</p>
<p>Out in the sun a touch too long, judging from the pink coloring his face, he’d puckered up his lips and sucked in part of his cheeks. If he hoped to bring out more of his cheekbones he needed to take some of the pressure off, but as-is looked like he'd been sucking on a particularly sour lemon.</p>
<p>All of it deliberately done to parody him, no doubt, and John had initially stood there, stifling a laugh as he took in every last detail of it.</p>
<p>If he’d been there, that would’ve been enough to make Charlemagne break character. To have him grinning widely at him as the two kept on laughing, and that alone would’ve outdone the previous photo in a heartbeat.</p>
<p>But he wasn’t there.</p>
<p>He was miles away in a near-empty store, staring down at a few scattered words, waiting to see just how much he’d damned himself.</p>
<p>
  <em>It’s no green, but you’re wearing it rather well at the moment. </em>
</p>
<p>Another minute ticked by. Then another, all while Charlemagne’s ridiculous face stared right back at him.</p>
<p>John sighed, and put his phone away.</p>
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